


Triptych

by difficultheart



Series: like a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Action/Mystery Focused, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brace Yourselves This One's Got a High Bodycount, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Get Ready It's Conspiracy Time, Gotham Organized Crime, Jason Todd is Very Tired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-24 21:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/difficultheart/pseuds/difficultheart
Summary: trip·tych (n) - a picture on three panels, typically hinged together side by side and used as an alterpieceAfter Shrike fails to stop the assassination of Carmine Falcone, she is drawn into a deep conspiracy and must team up with unlikely allies to stop an unknown enemy from taking over Gotham's crime families. Direct sequel to Hunger.





	1. Blood in the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> june 5th to june 14th
> 
> chapter warnings: violence, character death

_June 5 th_

Carmine Falcone was the most powerful man in Gotham. Although Bruce Wayne had the money and fame, pictures splashed over tabloids and powerful corporations, he kept his hands clean. In Gotham, that meant his power could only stretch so far. Falcone had not just the money but the power of Gotham’s underground. After wresting control of the Italians from Maroni a decade prior, he had enjoyed relative comfort. There were very few cops who couldn’t be bought, no witnesses who couldn’t be pressured into backing down, no bank that wasn’t willing to bend to harbor his dirty money. People lived and died and rose and fell by Falcone’s hand.

So when the Roman himself approached you at your gallery show, you felt that your level of fear was appropriate. Even if you had never seen a picture of the man before, you would have recognized him from the three diagonal scars on his cheek. Holding a glass of red wine, he stood next to you to admire one of the watercolors you had on display.

“An interesting piece.” If he noticed the way you flinched at the sound of his voice, the fear in your face, he did not show it. “Captures a facet of the spirit of Gotham.”

The piece in question was one you had been particularly proud of. A robin, a blackbird with a blue crest on its breast, and a shrike were taking flight, wings spread. You’d painted a shadow in the background in the shape of a bat. The piece was still untitled. Of the five pieces you were showing, it was the one that you had the most hope for selling at a high price tag.

“I find the nightlife of Gotham fascinating,” you responded. Somehow, you found a way to keep your voice even. Jason had left to take a call from one of his informants just a few minutes before. You prayed that they wouldn’t keep him on the phone for too long. “It’s inspiring, and the art collectors in Gotham eat it up.”

“I’m curious as to the inclusion of the shrike,” he said. Your grip on your flute of champagne tightened. “Gotham’s own butcher bird hasn’t been attracting many headlines.”

“I thought it was fitting.” You forced a smile. “Besides, groups of three are always better for the composition of a piece. I admit I don’t know much about Shrike, but the bird fit well in the painting.”

“Your artistic vision is quite different from some of the other artists who have been featured in this gallery.” Falcone finally turned to face you, dark eyes boring into yours. “I must admit that I’m intrigued, Mrs…?”

“Lanius,” you answered. The week before your first show in March, you’d adopted the new last name for your professional work. At the end of the month, the legal name change would come through. “Unmarried. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Falcone.”

“I see my reputation precedes me.” Taking your hand, Falcone pressed a kiss to your knuckles. His lips were cold and you felt a chill go down your spine. “My nephew was the one who first brought your work to my attention. His fiancée bought a painting at your first show.”

“I’m flattered.” You pulled your hand from his once he’d straightened, fighting the urge to wipe your knuckles on your dress. “Just out of curiosity, who is your nephew?”

“Johnny Viti. He’s a regular patron of this particular gallery.” Falcone’s eyes still did not leave you. Cold, dead, dark eyes that had overseen numerous atrocities. It was hard to keep the smile on your face. “I actually came here hoping to purchase one of your pieces as a gift for his wedding next week.”

“I see.” You took a sip of your champagne, praying that the trembling in your fingers was not obvious. “Is there a particular piece you have in mind?”

“Actually, I was hoping to commission you.” His hand rested on your elbow. It took every ounce of self-restraint you had not to jerk away and scream. “A portrait of the bride.”

“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Falcone, but I’ve yet to take commissions and—”

“That mixed media piece, is that of your companion?” he asked, cutting you off.

“I’m… sorry?” Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Mr. Jason Todd, the black sheep of Bruce Wayne’s wards. The piece made with watercolor and India ink is of him, correct?” The painting he was referring to was your favorite being displayed that night. You had painted a view of Jason laying in bed from the back, sheets slung low across his hips. His hair and silhouette were painted with India ink while the rest was painted with soft pastel watercolors. “The boy’s got quite a reputation.”

Your blood ran cold. When you started to pull away, Falcone tightened his grip on your elbow. His smile was predatory, not touching his shark eyes. “Please let go,” you whispered. The last thing you wanted to do was cause a scene.

“My nephew and his beautiful bride-to-be would be quite disappointed if they didn’t get a gift from me,” he said. “And the last thing either of us want to do is disappoint them. You’ll be paid well for your work. Perhaps I’ll even turn a blind eye to Mr. Todd’s extracurricular activities for a while.”

How many of these crime lords knew about Jason’s identity? Was Falcone the only one? If he knew that Jason was Red Hood, he likely knew that you were operating as Shrike. The most powerful man in Gotham could make you disappear with a snap of his fingers. And at that moment, he had you in a strangle hold. There was no other option, not one that wouldn’t put both you and Jason at risk.

“I’d be happy to paint a commission for you,” you said.

“Wonderful. You’ve made me a very happy man, Ms. Lanius.” Falcone released your arm, raising his glass of wine. “I’ll have my people get in touch.”

A warm hand came to rest on your back and you tensed as Jason came to stand next to you. How much of that had he heard? His smile was much more practiced, less plastic and canned than the one you’d tried to perfect.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?” he asked you, eyes on Falcone.

“Mr. Falcone has just commissioned me,” you said. You felt him tense. “His nephew is getting married soon and I will be painting a portrait of his bride as a gift.”

“Your girlfriend is quite the artist,” Falcone said. “And quite kind to take my offer. I’ll leave you two be. I look forward to your work.”

With that, Falcone slipped back into the crowd. Once he was out of sight, Jason stepped around to face you, hands on your shoulders.

“What the hell?” he whispered. “Are you insane? You can’t take Falcone money. He’ll keep you in his pocket if you do.”

“He didn’t offer me much of a choice,” you hissed back. “You know I have to be careful. And Jason, he knows.”

The color drained from his face. “What do you mean he knows?” he asked slowly.

“You know what I mean. I can’t say no.” Setting your glass of champagne on the tray of a passing waiter, you gripped his wrist. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll work with his people, paint the portrait, take the money, and walk away.”

“You’re staring down a gun with this,” he whispered. Glancing around, he bent his head closer and cupped your face in his hands. “We both are. If you’re doing this, you have to tread very carefully.”

“I know, Jason.” Glancing over at a few patrons who had noticed your conversation, you went up on your toes to whisper in his ear. “People are watching.”

“Which part should I play?” he whispered back.

“I don’t care, just act fast.”

Jason tipped your head up and kissed you. Even though it was for show, even though there were people watching and whispering, your heart skipped a beat. You kissed him back, opening one eye to watch the people around you. A few of the gossips were whispering to each other. Once they turned their backs, you pulled away and brushed a smudge of lipstick from his lip.

“You know the vultures will have some sort of rumor going around before the end of the night,” you said.

“I’m fine with that, so long as it overshadows you and Falcone talking.” He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Am I being overbearing?”

“No,” you said, “you’re just overprotective and jealous. I’m used to it by now.”

“Have I told you that you look amazing in that dress?”

You glared up at him. “Yes. Multiple times. I think the last one was when you took your phone call and thought I’d be annoyed.”

Looking sheepish, Jason shrugged and took a step back. “Just making sure my girlfriend knows that she’s beautiful, that’s all.”

“I know you far too well, Jason,” you said. Hooking your arm in his, you plastered on your best socialite smile. “If you keep laying it on this thick I’m going to be knee deep in it.”

“Love you too, babe.” Pressing a kiss to your temple, he let you lead him towards a couple who had bought a piece from you before.

Even if you were staring down a situation that could, at best, have you linked to a vicious crime family and, at worst, end with you getting killed, you weren’t about to have the entire Gotham art scene see a weak spot and go for your throat. In the pit of vipers that was the elite collectors of the city, a smile and a little bit of charm were your best weapons.

And, of course, the fact that you were dating one of the Wayne words didn’t exactly hurt.

\---

_June 8 th_

The Falcone estate was enormous. You had been expecting it to be, of course. If there was one thing you had learned about crime lords during your time with Jason as Shrike, it was that they were anything but subtle when it came to their wealth. One of Falcone’s men had greeted you at the door and led you out to a sprawling rose garden. Carmine Falcone was waiting for you. A pit of dread coiled in your stomach as you approached, supply bag slung over your shoulder. No one made a move to help you with it.

“I’m glad you agreed to come, Ms. Lanius.” Falcone gestured to a small pavilion ahead of you. “My nephew’s bride is quite eager to meet you.”

“I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. Falcone.” Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you made you way to the structure. “I’ll sketch out the base for the painting, make a swatch for the colors I’ll be using. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“It is quite hot this summer, isn’t it? If you need anything, doesn’t hesitate to ask.” Falcone watched you as you entered the pavilion, gaze cold on your back.

Johnny Viti and his fiancée waited for you inside. The Roman’s nephew was a large man, dressed in a dark suit. His fiancée was a small woman, pretty and blonde and dressed in a thin white slip. When she spotted you, the dark expression on her face lit into an excited smile.

“You must be the artist!” she exclaimed. Moving around her fiancée, she took your hands in her own, freshly manicured ones. “It’s so nice to meet you. When Uncle Carmine told us he’d commissioned you for a gift I was so happy. We have one of your watercolors in our penthouse. It’ll be nice to have another piece of yours in our collection.”

“I’m flattered.” With a pained, polite smile, you drew your hands away from hers. “I won’t take up too much of your time. I’m sure you’re quite busy with the wedding plans.”

“Very busy.” Johnny Viti was staring at you. “How long you gonna be here?”

Ouch. Although you weren’t exactly feeling welcome at the estate, the open hostility still stung. For a man who had been identified as a patron of the gallery, he didn’t seem very interested in your presence. His fiancée was likely the only reason he collected art.

“Only a couple of hours, Mr. Viti. Just enough time for a preliminary sketch and a color swatch for the finished work.” Setting down your bag, you gestured to a chair that had been set up. “If you wouldn’t mind getting ready for your pose, Miss…?”

“Call me Andrea.” The girl was still smiling, although it had lost some of its initial cheer. “I apologize for Johnny. He’s under a lot of stress.”

“It’s fine. Thank you, Andrea,” you said.

Grumbling, Johnny Viti looked you over one last time before leaving. There was a visible shift in the atmosphere once he was gone, a palpable relief shared between both you and his bride. Setting up your easel, you thumbed through several sheets of watercolor paper before choosing one of the appropriate size. While you were setting up, Andrea had picked a rose and sat down in the chair, shifting nervously as she tried to find a pose. Pulling out your pencil and an eraser, you squinted at her.

“May I make a suggestion for a pose?” you asked.

“Please,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I’m very sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” You pointed to her knees with your pencil. “Position your legs so that your feet are in front of one chair leg and your knees are in front of the opposite one. Let the rose rest in your lap with your hands folded over it. Do you want to look straight at me or in the distance?”

“What would be the difference between the two?” she asked while taking your suggestions.

“If you look at me, it’s very direct, a bit formal. If you look towards an unknown point, it would be a bit more wistful. Make the viewer question what has grabbed your attention.”

With a smile, she turned her head to look at a point in the distance. If it were not for the closed ceiling of the pavilion, she would have been looking up at the rain clouds rolling in. You were pleased with the pose. She had a soft face, one that carried emotions clearly. Nodding, you began to get to work. After a few moments of silence, she spoke up.

“May I ask about the scar on your face?” she asked.

You paused. Andrea wasn’t the first to ask about it, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. Although it had faded slightly, the scar was still prominent enough that you couldn’t hide it with makeup. Reaching up to trace the path of it from just below your left eye across the bridge of your nose to just below your right cheekbone, you sighed.

“I don’t mind, no.” You went back to sketching, focusing on her first. The background could always be photographed, but you preferred catching your human subjects on the canvas as you observed them instead of after the fact. “I was attacked a few months ago. It also left me mostly blind in my left eye, so I have to wear corrective lenses to be able to see.”

“Oh!” The smile dropped from Andrea’s face and she turned to face you. “That’s terrible! Was the person who attacked you caught?”

“Please turn back,” you said. Once she had given you a timid apology and resumed her pose, you continued. “And yes. He was taken care of.”

Technically, none of what you were saying was a lie. An omission of facts, perhaps, but no lies were being told. It was an easy enough story. You were a reasonably attractive woman who lived in Gotham and had commuted to and from a lower income neighborhood. It wasn’t an entirely uncommon story. Sketching out Andrea’s face, you glanced up to observe her expression. Wistful, longing, just a touch of sadness. You wanted to capture it perfectly, the face of a young woman marrying into the mob. A tragedy in one act.

“May I ask you a question, Andrea?” you asked.

“Of course!” When she continued to hold her pose, you smiled. She was learning quickly.

“Why are you marrying Mr. Viti?”

Just like that, her face fell. You put down your pencil for a moment, watching as her head tipped down towards the ground. From the hope of heaven to the depths of hell. It broke your heart. You did not know the girl, but the despair on her face was clear enough.

“He’s been good to me,” she said. “And his uncle is close with my father. Johnny’s mother wants to move to Gotham from Chicago. My family and his both think it’s best for both of us.”

“Ah,” you said. She wasn’t the first woman you’d met running with Gotham’s elite who had entered an arranged marriage. “And what is it that you want?”

Andrea glanced at you, nervous. “I don’t know if it matters what I want.”

“Just humor me.” Meeting her hesitant gaze, you smiled. “It won’t leave this pavilion, I promise.”

“Well…” Her hands shifted in her lap, fingers curling tighter around the rose. The thorns had already been removed from it. “I had wanted to be a musician. I play the cello.”

“Do you still play?” With a few quick lines, you were able to catch the look of hope that flitted across her face.

“I do.” The smile was back on Andrea’s face.

“Then just keep playing. If it’s what makes you happy, don’t abandon it. Even if you didn’t choose this marriage yourself, you can still have some happiness in the things you love now.” Leaning back, you appraised the canvas. Her face was perfect. You moved on to fill in details on her body.

“You’re very kind,” she said. “I’m glad Uncle Carmine brought you.”

“It was very kind of him to commission a portrait as your wedding gift.” Your grip tightened on your pencil as you worked. “I have your face and head, so you can move that now.”

“Oh, thank you.” She sighed, turning to face you again. “I… may I tell you something else?”

“Of course.”

“Uncle Carmine and Johnny have been very nervous the past few days. Johnny’s mother has been, too. All of them have been in meetings with their associates.” She frowned. “The other day, Uncle Carmine got a letter that really upset him. Mrs. Viti was angry, too.”

Perhaps taking a commission from Carmine Falcone wasn’t a bad idea, after all. Careful to keep your expression neutral, you kept sketching. “Really? Do you know why?”

“Not exactly, but Johnny told me last night that he’s worried someone might hurt Uncle Carmine soon. Maybe even kill him.” Andrea shivered, shaking her head. “It’s terrible.”

Carmine Falcone feared an assassination attempt. It was a juicy little piece of information to share with Jason later. It wasn’t the Red Hood who was after him (Jason had focused his attention on the Penguin over the last two weeks), so there had to be a rogue interest in play. Perhaps Maroni was trying another move for the Falcone empire. It was also possible the Irish could be responsible, although they had been focusing on such small-scale jobs that a huge assassination would have been out of character. With Cobblepot busy dealing with Red Hood, it narrowed down the players by a significant margin. Perhaps Bruce or Tim would know something about the situation.

“That’s horrible,” you said. Thankfully, you sounded appropriately horrified given the topic of conversation. “I hope it all blows over soon. That’s such an awful thing to be thinking about days before your wedding.”

“You’re so sweet.” Andrea smiled and you instantly felt guilty. This was her life, you shouldn’t be getting excited about the potential of it being destroyed. As terrible as her future uncle-in-law was, she was just a normal person in a bad situation. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” With an answering smile, you turned back to the canvas.

The next hour and a half passed in comfortable silence. You sketched out the background quickly and mixed your paints to swatch on a scrap of paper. A few of the rose bushes around the pavilion had exotic colors that took longer to mix than others. Once you were finished, you stretched and set your brush behind your ear.

“That’s it for the moment. Thank you for being so patient with me, Andrea. The rest of the painting will take much longer, but I promise it will be done in time for your wedding,” you said.

“Thank you for being so lovely!” She beamed, standing up and walking around to peer at the canvas. “I can’t wait to see the finished piece.”

“I hope you’ll enjoy it.” Packing away your supplies, you glanced around. No men were nearby, but you knew that someone was watching you from a distance. “Do you mind if I take a few quick pictures? Just as reference, in case I decide to change my plan.”

“Not at all.” Andrea stepped back. “Would you like to have me in the pictures as well?”

“If you don’t mind. I didn’t put down much detail in your slip, so that would be great.”

With a small nod, she sat back down in the chair. You pulled your phone from the side pocket of your bag. Pretending to fiddle with it, you took a few quick pictures of the surrounding estate. It was a long shot, but Bruce or Tim could be able to pull some small detail from them. Once you had the pictures of Andrea and the garden, you locked the phone and smiled.

“Thank you. Should I see myself out?” you asked.

“Oh no, I’ll see you out.” Andrea put on a robe she’d tucked away behind the chair and watched as you finished packing up.

Once you were done, she led you back through the gardens. You had slipped your phone back out, taking pictures as stealthily as you could. None of the men you passed seemed to notice, likely so uninterested in the little artist that they didn’t factor you as a potential threat. You stopped at the front door with Andrea, grunting in surprise when she pulled you in for a tight hug. Awkwardly patting her back, you cleared your throat.

“Well, it was very nice to meet you,” you said. “I wish you the best of luck, Andrea.”

“Thank you so much,” she gushed, finally stepping back. Her cheeks were flushed, smile wide and warm. “It was so nice to meet you too. I’ll make sure to come to any gallery showings you have in the future.”

With a small nod, you waved goodbye to her and walked down the drive to the car you’d borrowed from Dick. Bruce had offered to loan you one of his, but you’d been too scared to drive any of them since they all cost more than your student loans. Sliding in and starting the ignition, you pulled out before calling Jason.

“I have some interesting information,” you said by way of greeting when he answered. Turning onto the turnpike, you grinned. “And you are so going to regret telling me taking this job was a mistake when I tell you what it is.”

\----

_June 12 th_

Johnny Viti’s wedding was a Who’s Who of Gotham’s worst. Gangbangers, drug lords, mercenaries, smugglers, assassins, and corrupt politicians and cops were all present. You felt incredibly out of place. After informing Jason of the possible hit, he’d relayed the information to the rest of his family. As it was your case, Bruce let you take lead on it. He’d arranged for you to get an invitation and a plus-one to the wedding so you could watch for any potential movement from the assassins. Jason had been unable to go as he and Dick had plans in Bludhaven (apparently Nightwing was having serious issues with a criminal named Blockbuster and needed a little help), but he’d sent you with a trusted friend of his.

“I swear, Gotham gets worse every time I visit,” Kyle Rayner whispered to you.

You’d only just met the man earlier that evening, as it had taken a good deal of time to convince him to come. Not that you could blame him; a mob wedding in one of the most corrupt cities in the country wasn’t a great vacation. You weren’t sure what Jason had said to finally convince Kyle, but you were glad. Not only did he have some sort of alien ring that he could use in a fight, he happened to be an artist. It had helped both of you get much more comfortable with the whole situation.

“It’s really just the people here,” you whispered back. The reception was in a spacious ballroom at one of Gotham’s finest hotels. The two of you had taken a position near a chocolate fountain, pretending to drink champagne and dumping it in plants when no one was looking.

“Why did you even come back here?” he asked. “Metropolis is so much better than this place.”

“I was born here. Kind of felt like I was missing a limb when I lived somewhere else.” You smiled when he pulled a confused face. “I know, it’s weird. But a lot of Gothamites just have the city in their blood.”

“You and all the bats are weird,” he mumbled.

“Says the guy with a green alien ring,” you said.

Kyle laughed, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Stones and glass houses and all that. Los Angeles really isn’t much better.”

“If you think Gotham is bad, never go to Bludhaven,” you said. “Dick is a goddamn saint for putting up with that place as long as he has. I went there once and vowed never to go back ever again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if Dick decides to call in a favor as well.”

“He’s smart, he’ll know better than to try his luck right now,” you said.

Movement above you caught your attention. Frowning, you looked up at the glass ceiling. There didn’t appear to be anything up there, but you didn’t want to discount that brief movement. You nudged Kyle with your elbow.

“Ceiling. See anything?” you asked, voice low.

Kyle looked up, frowning. You surveyed the crowd as he checked. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe just a bird or something.”

“Must be my paranoia acting up,” you said. You wished you could convince yourself. Over the course of the evening, you’d had a building sense of dread. Something was very wrong, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “Bruce is rubbing off on me.”

“Nothing wrong with a little healthy paranoia,” he said. He nudged you back, voice dropping. “Head’s up, we have company.”

Looking in the direction he was, you sighed when you saw Andrea heading your way. “Oh god,” you hissed, “I was hoping she wouldn’t notice me here.”

Kyle snorted and you elbowed him in the ribs before plastering on a smile as the bride approached. She looked stunning in her gown, all white lace and frills. Her blond hair fell in gentle curls down her back, bouncing with each step.

“I didn’t know you came!” Andrea gushed, gathering you into a tight hug. You returned it, although with much less squeezing. “I’m so glad you could. Your painting is beautiful, I love it so much.”

“I’m glad,” you said. “I lucked out and got on the invitation list last minute, I guess.”

“Oh,” she said, turning to Kyle, “is this your boyfriend?”

The champagne Kyle had been pretending to drink nearly came out his nose as he desperately held back a laugh. You resisted the urge to dig your heel into the arch of his foot.

“Oh no,” he said, coughing and handing the glass to you. “No, I’m not her boyfriend. I’m an old friend of hers from art school. Her boyfriend had plans, so I offered to come in his place.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you anyways!” she said. “I’m Andrea Viti.”

“Yes, I figured.” He grinned, turning up the charm. “Kyle Rayner. Congratulations, by the way. The wedding was beautiful.”

It had been horrendous. You’d forgotten how tedious Catholic weddings were. Within the first half hour, you’d regretted wearing stilettos. But it was a nice sentiment, and she looked happy with the compliment.

“Thank you so much. I should get back to the other guests, but I wanted to say hi and thank you!” Andrea took your hands in hers and squeezed. “And try the cannoli. Uncle Carmine had them flown all the way over from Italy.”

With one last airy smile and a wave, Andrea left. You immediately sagged in relief, bracing yourself against the table.

“She seems nice,” Kyle said. “You know, for a girl married to a mobster.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I feel bad for her. It must be hard, knowing what her husband does.”

He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. All that, it could be an act. And people are very good at coming up with justifications for the bad things their loved ones do.”

That seemed pointed, but you didn’t push it. If Kyle had an issue with Jason’s methods, he hadn’t brought it up with you yet. Besides, you weren’t entirely comfortable with the killing either. Your own murder of Black Mask wasn’t sitting well with you, despite Jason’s reassurances. The man had been evil, but you’d taken that step. You knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t be afraid to take that step again. You’d threatened Count Vertigo with it, after all. An example had needed to be made. But some nights, when Jason came back covered in blood with a crazed look in his eye, you wondered if it was really worth it. The blood, the death, the violence. You lost sleep more frequently than you would have cared to admit wondering if it was all just perpetuating a cycle. An eye for an eye.

“I know,” you said. “It’s just sad to see.”

“Just focus on how happy she is right now,” he said. “And the cannoli. Those sound amazing.”

You did not get a chance to try the cannoli.

A moment later, the ceiling shattered. Screams filled the room as smoke filled the space. The dread you’d been feeling twisted into fear. There were too many people. You took a step back, trying to locate whoever had thrown in the gas canister. Kyle was at your side in a moment, pulling your mask from his coat. His ring glowed around his neck, his expression grim.

“Quick,” he said. “I’ll cover.”

Nodding, you took the mask and ducked behind the table. With all the chaos in the room no one was watching as you ripped off your dress. Alfred had provided you with a modified version of your costume, sleeveless and skintight, the bottom half ending just above your knees. It had been completely invisible under the dress. You kicked off your heels and slipped the mask into place over the lower half of your face. The earpiece in your left ear clicked on, the contacts you were wearing shifting color to a glowing red and pulling up a heads-up display for you connected to Tim’s main computer. Without boots, you were barefoot but able to move silently.

“Are you seeing this, Red Robin?” you asked, tracking movement through the smoke. There was a flash of green and Kyle emerged from the smoke, fully suited and yelling for people to evacuate.

“I’m seeing it,” Tim answered in your ear. “I’m watching through security. Trying to find the hostile.”

“No need.” You looked up at the hole in the ceiling. A figure leapt through it, landing in a silent crouch in the smoke. “I’ve got eyes on them. One hostile.”

The assassin moved like a film reel skipping frames. Their movements were jerky and unnatural, too fast to track and too stiff to read. Fear bubbled in your stomach. You were out of your depth. The cases you had worked had all been small, busting little drug rings or laundering operations. Nothing that even came close to a horror movie assassin after the most powerful criminal in Gotham. Pushing the fear back down, you ran out into the fray.

“Lantern,” you yelled to Kyle, “at your five!”

Kyle turned, floating further into the air to sight both you and the assassin. Gathering your power, you launched yourself into the air, cresting close to the hole in the ceiling before landing in a crouch in front of the assassin. They stilled. Dressed all in black, they would have been impossible to see in the smoke without your contacts. The mask they wore was ornate, appearing to be made of bronze along with the tools and weapons stashed on them. Both hands had fingers that were tipped with razor sharp claws.

“Shrike,” Tim asked, “do you have eyes on the hostile?”

“Copy that,” you said. “Neutralizing now.”

In the months since you’d taken up your new mantle, Dick had taught you how to fight. Although you weren’t as flexible or acrobatic as he was, his style favored taking down larger targets. Even with your power-boosted strength, you were at a disadvantage with your small size and a modified version of his style had seemed like a good fit. _Move fast, hit hard_. Darting forward, you threw a punch. As quickly as they had gone still, the assassin was moving again. With that same jerky movement, it dodged each blow you threw its way. Frustrated, you threw your hand up and brought the chandelier crashing down with a swing and a surge of power. With a fluid flip backwards, the assassin dodged the massive projectile. Glass shattered at your feet and you cursed.

A glowing green fist flew out from behind you, just barely missing the assassin. Kyle landed next to you, frowning.

“You recognize this guy?” he asked.

“No,” you answered. You took a step back to avoid stepping on the glass shards littering the floor. “Red Robin, you seeing them?”

“Can’t get a clear view,” he answered.

“Shit, he’s moving!” Kyle yelled.

Sure enough, the assassin was moving away quickly. For a moment, you were confused. Neither of you had been able to land a blow, why would they be retreating? Then you saw who they were running for. Carmine Falcone drew his gun, Andrea screaming behind him as Johnny Viti blocked her from the assassin.

“No, no, no!” Panic rising, you took bounding leaps forward. Glass cut into your feet with each step down, but you ignored it.

You couldn’t let Carmine Falcone get murdered at his own nephew’s wedding. Landing in a crouch in front of the man, you wound your power in your legs and threw yourself at the assassin. You collided with them in a tangle of limbs, fighting for control. Even with your strength enhanced by your TK field, they were stronger. Talons slashed through your suit and across your stomach, hot pain following in their wake. They used their other hand to grab the side of your head and slam your face into the ground. You tasted blood, stunned by the blow. Kyle swept down, hard light constructs closing around the assassin. But they’d managed to keep an arm free, a dagger whizzing through the air and embedding in Kyle’s shoulder. He cried out, the construct evaporating as he fell to his hands and knees.

“No,” you wheezed. You pushed yourself to your hands and knees, trying to crawl forward.

The assassin had reached Falcone. The mobster fired his gun. One, two, three, four, five, six shots rang out. You watched each hit, but the assassin did not even flinch. A click. The gun was empty. You tried to gather your power, crying out in pain. You couldn’t fail. Not on this, not something so important.

Blood sprayed onto the floor as the assassin slashed open Falcone’s throat with their talons. Andrea screamed. Johnny Viti cursed and fired. The talons went in his guts next, twisting and ripping. Gore dripping and splattering to the floor. Andrea kept screaming, tried to run. Then her screams were cut short.

_You had failed._

“Shrike!” Tim’s voice sounded distant, somehow. “Shrike, do you copy? I have eyes on hostile, do not engage! Shrike?”

“I failed,” you whispered. “I’m down. Lantern is too. Something… on the blades.”

Even with your wounds, you weren’t losing blood quickly enough to explain the fog descending on your vision. Kyle was unresponsive behind you, body terribly still. You could hear him breathing, but it was labored. Nausea rolled through you as you crawled to a column, using it as support to drag yourself to your feet. Your breath came in labored pants, each one burning.

“Requesting back-up.” The world spun and you managed to catch yourself with one blood-slick palm. “I think we were poisoned. Red Robin, I—”

You vomited. The nausea was getting worse. You could barely keep yourself on your feet, even leaning heavily against the column.

“I’m heading your way now with Batgirl,” Tim said. He sounded frantic, out of breath. “Do not move.”

“Tim.” You abandoned the call signs. There was blood everywhere. On you, the walls, the floor. Andrea’s pretty white dress was stained red. “I fucked up.”

“You’re going to be okay,” he said. He sounded scared.

“Carmine Falcone is dead,” you said. “And I couldn’t stop it.”

\----

_June 13 th_

“The Talons should all be out of commission.”

Bruce, Jason, Tim, Barbara, and Damian were all gathered in the cave. After being given an antidote for the poison and being stitched up by Alfred, you had refused to rest. Kyle had made the same decision, standing next to you as you faced down the others. It would have been comforting if he didn’t still look sick.

“I don’t understand, Bruce,” you said. “What the hell is a Talon?”

“Undead assassins that were controlled by a group called the Court of Owls,” Tim explained. “The Court was destroyed four years ago. There shouldn’t be any active Talons left.”

“I hate Gotham so much,” Kyle groaned.

“Why would they come for Falcone and his family?” you asked. You had learned to brush off the weirdness. Undead assassins were a new level of weird, though.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Tim looked pale. You suspected he hadn’t slept at all.

“It’s possible someone found the Talon, reactivated it without the court,” Barbara pointed out. “A lot of people stand to gain from Falcone’s death.”

“I’m keeping point on this.” Hand pressed over the bandages on your middle, you scowled. “This is personal now.”

“Like fuck you are.” Jason was furious. When he’d gotten the call from Tim about your condition, he’d torn through the streets. While he’d mostly been quiet, everyone in the cave had felt the rage radiating from him. “This is bigger than you now.”

“I’m aware,” you snapped back. “That’s why I’m keeping Kyle here to help me out.”

“Wait, what?” Kyle asked.

“No.” Jason glared at you. You glared right back. “Stand down, Shrike.”

“Make me,” you said.

The others all shifted awkwardly, the tension in the room palpable and thick. It wasn’t often that you had a real fight with Jason, but when you did it had a bad habit of spinning wildly out of control.

“If I have to knock you out and chain you up, I absolutely will. Don’t test me on this.” He stepped closer, towering over you. “You could have died. You’re not taking that risk again.”

“You’re busy with Cobblepot, Dick has his hands full with Blockbuster, Barbara is tracking Zsasz, and Damian and Bruce are tracking Two-Face,” you said. “Kyle is here and he has that weird ring. Tim has been tracking and gathering information on the Falcone family for months. And I’m not a damsel in distress. In case you forgot, I ripped out Black Mask’s heart with my bare hands. I can take care of myself.”

“Can we go back to the part where you said I was staying here?” Kyle asked. Stepping between the two of you, he put a hand on your shoulder. “Because that’s something you ask, not something you assume.”

“Kyle,” you hissed out between gritted teeth, “would you please stay in Gotham and help me figure out who’s killing crime lords? You can sleep on my couch.”

“That’s better.” Kyle nodded, grinning. “I’ll stay for the time being. Guy and Hal have things handled for the Corps right now, and I’d like to pay a visit to the guy who took me down.”

“There.” Peering around Kyle at Jason, you sneered at your boyfriend. “I have a Green Lantern on my side now. And a genius level intellect. You can’t say no.”

From the look on his face, you knew he wanted to say no. But with Kyle at your back and Tim likely to agree with your plan, the others would side with you as well. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Just like that, you’d won the argument.

“Fine.” He said.

“Fine,” you snapped.

With one last heavy sigh, Jason turned and stalked out of the cave. Barbara, Bruce, and Damian all gathered to discuss something in hushed tones. The odd man out, Tim shoved his hands into his hoodie and approached you. Kyle glanced at you, brow furrowed. Both men were quiet, watching and waiting for you to make the first move.

“Okay,” you said. “I guess this is mission start for real then. God help us.”

\----

_June 13 th – Falcone Estate_

Carla Viti was tired of mourning. Too much of her life had been spent surrounded by death, black forced into her wardrobe as the people around her got themselves killed. She had never expected to lose both her brother and her son at the same time. Chicago was home, but Gotham demanded her attention. The bodies had been identified by her, the funeral homes were contacted by her, and Carmine’s children were called by her. The family was hers and she did not take the responsibility lightly.

Operations were brought to her attention during the hours since Carmine’s death. Smuggling, prostitution, assassinations, everything under the sun. There was very little that the family did not have their fingers in. Perhaps for someone else, it would have been overwhelming. But she was a mother, and there was very little that could take her by surprise. She had spent the past 30 years watching over a dynasty and securing its future. Now that the future was uncertain, she was the best choice to keep it together. The Viti family could wait. Gotham needed her.

“Get the word out,” she told one of Carmine’s lieutenants. She did not know their names, and she did not care. They were nothing but fodder in the grand scheme of the universe. “$5 million for the Shrike. I want her alive. An extra two for anyone who can bring the Green Lantern with her.”

Of course, Carla Viti was not stupid. She knew that this Shrike vigilante had not carried out the killings. That wasn’t the girl’s M.O. But the vigilante had seen the assassin, fought them and failed. The deaths were on her head, in some form, but the punishment for that could come later. The Green Lantern was a bonus, a possible trump card she could play. Once she got what she wanted, the vigilantes could be disposed of.

Shrike would give her the information she needed, could maybe even be convinced to bring the head of the killer to her. And once that was done, Carla Viti could clean her hands of the whole situation and get on with her life.

\----

_June 14 th_

With a grunt, you threw Jason to the ground. Both of you were drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. When you trained with him and Dick, no powers were allowed. Just pure instinct and the muscle memory you were slowly beginning to build. Jason rolled to his feet, moving with his usual deadly grace. You kept your guard up, eyes tracking his hands. That was one of the lessons Dick had drilled into you early: _watch the hands and you’ll have control of the fight_.

He lunged, tackling you to the ground. You managed to get one leg up, knee pressing into his stomach. Snarling, he shoved your face into the ground. Tucking your other leg up, you planted both feet in his stomach and shoved. He fell back and you scrambled up, planting your knees on his wrists and getting a hand around his throat. Both of you gasped for breath, pushed to your limits and running on adrenaline. Finally, he tapped out, fingers rapping against the side of your leg. You rolled off of him and onto your back, trying to catch your breath.

“Your stitches still holding up?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you gasped. “Still good. Just a little sore.”

“You’re getting better.” Jason sat up, pulling off his shirt and mopping at his face with it. You watched the muscles in his back shift, new bruises blooming across his skin. “Don’t tell Dick I said that.”

You laughed, splaying out on the mat. Since you had started your formal training, you sparred once a week with Jason at his warehouse hideout so he could assess your combat readiness. He’d thought about giving you a break given your injuries, but you had refused. With Falcone’s assassin still loose, you couldn’t afford to take a break. If you couldn’t spar with Jason with your injuries, you had no hope of facing off against the enemy.

“It’ll be our little secret,” you said. “Even though we both know he’s a great teacher.”

“I never said that.” Jason leaned over you, hands braced by your head. “I think you’re just that good.”

“Well,” you said, grinning up at him. “You’re pretty biased, Jason.”

“Mm, only a little.” Dipping his head, he kissed you, soft and sweet. “I’m glad that you were able to ditch Kyle for a bit.”

“Why, you feel nervous about fooling around with your friend in the same house?” You smirked up at him, brushing his hair out of his face. “That’s not like you.”

“Maybe I just wanted to have you to myself. As much fun as it would be to make Rayner uncomfortable, it’s been a while since we’ve had time alone. Just the two of us, without either of us being too tired to do much other than sleep or argue.” He had a point. It had been far too long since you’d really had proper alone time with him.

Sitting up, you draped your arms over his shoulders. Even sweating and flushed, he looked perfect. If you weren’t so in love with him, you would have hated him for it. You knew you were a mess, hair mussed and flush blotchy on your skin. The stitches pulled uncomfortably with the movement, but you ignored them.

“Well,” you murmured, “now that you have me all to yourself, Mr. Todd, what are you planning to do?”

That familiar spark lit in his eyes and you fought to keep from grinning. After almost 6 months being intimate with the man, you knew exactly how to light a fire in him. Jason Todd was nowhere near as complex as he liked to believe.

“First, I want to have you slow,” he said. He pulled you closer, lips brushing over your ear. “Then I’ll make it rough and frantic so I can work out how pissed I still am with you about this Falcone case. And then I thought we could watch Pride and Prejudice again.”

You groaned dramatically. “Again, Jason? We’ve watched that movie at least six times together.”

“And? It’s a great movie!” He laughed as you moved to straddle him, fingers carding through his hair. “We both know you love it too.”

“A small change of pace would be nice, babe,” you said. Still, you didn’t really mind. It was cute that he was such a huge Austen fan. You had spent several dinner dates just listening to him gush about the books and the movies. “But I guess I’ll be okay with it since you’re dicking me down first.”

Jason laughed again, hands resting on your hips as he brushed kisses over your throat. “I promise I’ll make it worth your time, sweetheart.”

“Mm, you’d better.” Tipping his head up, you kissed him. Teeth nipping at his bottom lip, you dragged a deep moan from him. It was always teeth that drove him to the edge, pushed him just that little step farther. “I’ve thought about staring a crime syndicate just so you’d pay as much attention to me as you do to Penguin.”

“Hot,” he chuckled. “You’d look good in a pantsuit. Much as I love it when you beg, it would be sexy to see you taking charge, too.”

“I’ll see what I can do about getting a few cronies.” Shivering as his hands slipped up the back of your shirt, you bit your lip.

Just as Jason was unhooking your bra, your phone rang. Both of you stilled, eyes darting over to the device. You sighed, slumping against him.

“I’m going to smash that fucking thing,” he grumbled against your skin.

“Sorry,” you said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before slipping out of his grasp. Reaching over, you groaned when you saw the caller ID. Jason watched with an eyebrow raised as you answered. “Hi Tim.”

Jason rolled his eyes, flopping onto his back. Mood officially killed.

“Hey. So, uh… something’s come up,” Tim said.

“I was hoping for a day off.” You closed your eyes, willing away your disappointment. Just one day, that was all you wanted. One day to work things out. “How important is this thing?”

“Really important.” Tim cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t.”

Christ, did he have cameras _everywhere_? Or were you just that obvious? Either was within the realm of possibility.

“Okay,” you said. “Lay it on me.”

“Carla Viti put out a bounty on you. And Kyle. $7 million total for both of you brought to her alive.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” he said. “The acting head of the Falcone crime family just made her first play. And you don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Hanging up, you turned to Jason. He stayed quiet, waiting and watching as your grappled for words.

“I think I need to go. Like, right now,” you said. “I’m sorry, I promise we can continue this later.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked, brow furrowed in concern.

“No.” Retrieving your bag, you shot off a quick text to Kyle. “Stay here, I’ll keep you posted.”

“What’s happening?” He stood up, watching you go.

“Not much. Just going to make a deal with the devil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back, my dear readers! this little sequel is going to be a bit different than the previous fic. for one, i want to do a lot of character building with the reader character and sort of flesh out a continuity for the timeline this takes place in. for now, here's what i have so far:
> 
> reader and jason are 25  
> dick is 28  
> barbara is 29  
> tim and steph are 20  
> damian is 14-15  
> bruce is in his late fourties
> 
> the night of the owls took place while shrike was in college out in metropolis. no parliament of owls in this fic, and i will confirm that the court is 100% dissolved in gotham. harvey dent is freshly made two face (within the last year) and joker is dead because i am very tired of joker (sorry y'all). no outlaws in this but kyle and jason have worked together in the past (i'm considering putting conor hawke in here as well, since he and kyle are canonically best friends). also, fun fact, i re-read the first few issues of Long Halloween and johnny viti's wife was never given a name. so i gave her one, because she deserves one (even if i did kill her pretty horrifically). 
> 
> i'll put more world building down here in the notes in the next two chapters for anything i can't address in the fic itself. if you've read this far, thank you so much!! comments and kudos are always appreciated. you can follow me over on tumblr at spidergwenn.


	2. False Alarm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> june 14th to june 22nd

_June 14 th—Dusk _

“Throw me through the window,” you said.

Kyle Rayner looked at you in horror. The two of you had camped out on the roof of the Falcone estate to watch the movements of the men there. Carla Viti had been yelling at Carmine Falcone’s old lieutenants for the past half hour, and you were getting antsy. The longer you waited, the closer some mercenary could be to breaking into your home. You looked back at Kyle, nonplussed.

“What?” he finally asked.

“Throw me. Through that window. The one that’s in the room Carla Viti is in.” You paused. “Please.”

“Oh my god,” he said. He buried his face in his hands. “You’ve been with Jason too long.”

“No, Jason would catapult himself in, guns blazing,” you pointed out. “Probably screaming, too.”

“That’s not—” Kyle groaned, throwing his hands up. “Can’t you use your power to throw yourself?”

“Well yeah. But that’s not as fun.” Pulling up your hood, you stood up and began to stretch. “Damian always wants me to throw him around, so I figure it’s my turn.”

Power ring coming to life, Kyle shook his head as he watched you limber up. “Fastball special with a Gotham vigilante. Never would have thought this would be how I spend my time off. Alright, get ready.”

“Awesome.” Bouncing on your feet, you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

A hard light construct of a hand stretched out in front of you, waiting for you to step into it. You did, crouching and bracing yourself for the flight. Turning back to Kyle, you grinned.

“By the way, Rayner, you’re the best,” you said.

He simply shook his head, muttering under his breath. Then you were flying. Time slowed down. Counting each heartbeat, you felt the wind in your hair. It was terrifying and exhilarating, a taste of the freedom those who could fly felt. Then you curled in on yourself, arms bracing around your head as you crashed through the window. Hitting the ground, you rolled into a crouch and let out the breath you’d been holding during your flight. A half dozen men and Carla Viti all stared at you for a heartbeat before the lieutenants were pulling their guns, six dark eyes staring you down. Moving slowly, you raised your hands and stood.

“I heard that you wanted to see me, Mrs. Viti,” you said. “I figured crashing through your window was an apt analogy for the bounty you put out on me and my friend.”

Like her brother, Carla Viti’s dark, narrow eyes were cold as ice. Her smile was predatory, her posture relaxed as she leaned back against her late brother’s desk. While the men around her were tense, fingers hovering over triggers, she was relaxed. You were impressed, despite yourself. The woman had just lost her family and was staring down a super-powered vigilante and made it look like just another day in the life.

“It seems you have a good information network, Shrike,” she said. “I’m glad you came yourself instead of being dragged here. And the Green Lantern?”

“Just a little late to the party.” Kyle flew in through the window, landing next to you. “I prefer a less dramatic entrance.”

The tension in the room went up ten-fold. You tried not to be offended that the men found Kyle more dangerous than you. In all fairness, with that power ring, he was a bigger threat. Carla Viti looked him over slowly, watching him shift uncomfortably.

“So,” you said. “Now that we’re all here, care explaining what all this is about?”

Walking around the desk, Carla Viti sat down and folded her hands in front of her. The men around her kept their guns trained on you. You were beginning to think that the hostility was going to be sticking around. You tried to look as relaxed as possible, folding your arms over your chest while Kyle looked increasingly uncomfortable.

“Imagine my surprise,” Viti said, “when my men told me that the security footage showed the two of you were present when my family were murdered. The media may not pay much attention to you, Shrike, but the circles I run in are very aware of the woman who murdered Black Mask. I didn’t expect a Green Lantern to be running with you. Don’t your people have a code?” she asked Kyle.

“Something of the sort.” He glanced at you, brow furrowed. “I wasn’t aware of the murder thing.”

“I did it out of necessity. Black Mask came for my people. He came for me. I shut him down.” You shrugged. “It just so happened that shutting him down meant crushing his heart in my hand.”

“So first you kill Roman Sionis,” Viti said. “Then you leave a scar on Count Vertigo’s face and run him out of Gotham. My late brother was quite disappointed when his investment didn’t pay off. Now you’re found at the scene of not only his murder, but the murder of my only son and his bride. You can imagine how that looks.”

“Not good,” you admitted. “But I didn’t kill them. You’re smart, Mrs. Viti. I think you’ve figured out that fact.”

Carla Viti shrugged. “Of course I have. Like you said, I’m not stupid. However, their blood is still on your hands. You found out about the threat to Carmine’s life and failed to do anything about it. In our family, that means you’re just as responsible.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Had she lured you there to kill you? Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kyle tense, ready for a fight.

“But I’ve decided to be generous,” she continued. “I have an offer for you, Shrike. Your Green Lantern can take it as well, if he wants.”

“Name it,” you said.

“I imagine that you haven’t been sitting idly by since your humiliating defeat.” When you tensed, Viti flashed that predatory smile again. “You have some interesting allies. Perhaps you’ve already begun hunting down the man who killed my Johnny. I want you to bring me his head, Shrike. And the heads of whoever sent the assassin.”

“You want me to take out a hit?” you asked. “I’m not a contract killer, Mrs. Viti.”

“No, but you are in a very precarious position.” Her eyes narrowed. “My grief is making me weak now, girl. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not capable of destroying everything and everyone that you love. I lost my brother and my son. At my son’s wedding, no less. Whoever did this is going to pay for it. It’s in your best interest to appease me by doing it yourself. Otherwise I promise you that you will find yourself regretting it.”

There wasn’t much choice. Falcone’s roots ran deep, and you had no doubt that his sister would use them to tear your life apart. Just like her brother, she had you in a strangle hold. The only difference was while Falcone had done it out of seeming amusement, Carla Viti was a mother and sister mourning. The depths of her cruelty would have no end until she saw vengeance enacted. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. It would likely mean losing Kyle’s support, but you knew what your choice had to be.

“It’s a deal.” You looked her in the eye, fighting back a shudder at the cold rage you saw there. “One time only. I’ll bring you the heads of the people who wronged you, Carla Viti. But then you cut me loose.”

“I have no use for a vigilante on permanent retainer anyways,” she said. Waving a hand, she leaned back in her chair. “Once Sofia arrives in Gotham, my time here comes to an end.”

Sofia Gigante, Carmine Falcone’s only daughter. You didn’t know where the woman currently was, but it was a foregone conclusion that she would come back after her father’s death. With the oldest son, Mario, in forced seclusion in Italy, that left one loose end.

“What about Alberto?” you asked.

Carla Viti snorted, disgust clear on her face. “He is already in Gotham and knows of his father’s death. However, he will not be involved in this. Sofia will take charge of our family, as Carmine wished. Alberto is ill-suited for the business. The boy is an academic with no spine.”

Interesting. You tucked that bit of knowledge away for later. Kyle spoke up then.

“I’ll have to pass on the offer,” he said. “I try to make a habit of not working for criminals.”

“A shame,” Carla Viti said. “Then I suggest you pray that Shrike does her job well, Green Lantern. Or you will feel the wrath of the family, as well.”

\----

_June 15 th – Midnight_

“I’m sorry,” Kyle said. He had packed up his things the second you’d arrived home. “I know I said I’d help you, but I’m not comfortable working with a gangster. Even if she did lose her family, I can’t be seen working with a criminal.”

“I understand,” you said. It sucked, but you understood. Kyle Rayner was a good man with a moral code. He deserved better than being dragged into mob affairs. “I appreciate the help you were able to offer. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure I don’t fuck up this job. You shouldn’t be getting a visit from the mob any time soon.”

“Even if I did,” he said, “I can handle myself. I fight aliens for a living now, remember? A few bullets are nothing compared to laser beams. Just take care of yourself, okay? Try not to go too deep down this rabbit hole.”

Deep was exactly where you were planning to go. It wasn’t just your head on the line. It was Kyle’s, too, and all the people he cared about. It also meant Jason’s life was on the line, and you didn’t take that lightly. To keep him safe, you were willing to sink to the depths of hell and drench yourself in blood. Whatever it took, you were willing and ready. But you couldn’t ask that of Kyle. Even if he was only doing detective work, you were hesitant to ask it of Tim. Once word got to Bruce of what you were doing, any support he had once given you would disappear. If Tim decided it wasn’t worth losing the support of his family, you were on your own.

“Don’t look so grim.” Kyle nudged you with his elbow, grinning. “I’m not just gonna leave you hanging, you know. I have to stop by L.A. to check on my mom first, but I’ve got a friend in Star City who I think will be willing to give you a hand. He’ll be more suited to the job anyways. Green glowing dudes aren’t exactly great when it comes to covert missions.”

“I appreciate it.” You nudged him back, walking out with him and stopping on your porch. “You don’t have to do that, but any help would be appreciated.”

“I’ll have him get in touch, then.” Stepping forward, Kyle pulled you into a hug. After a moment, you returned it. “And I’ll keep in touch, too. Always nice to meet another artist. Keep your schedule open for a non-hero collaboration.”

You laughed, stepping back and shoving your hands in the pockets of your hoodie. “It was nice to meet you, Kyle. My schedule will always be open for you.”

With one final wave goodbye, you watched Kyle fly off, a glowing green speck in the sky. This time, Jason made sure you heard him approach when he walked up behind you. His hand settled on the small of your back. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you watched him track the progress of his friend until he disappeared.

“I know what you’re going to say,” you told him.

“Oh, can we add being able to see the future to the list of your powers?” He was joking, but you watched a muscle tick in his jaw. Not the angry one, the one that twitched when you did or said something that stressed him out.

“Jason. I can’t put you in danger again.” You leaned into his side, closing your eyes to focus on the heat from his body and the way his fingers curled around your hip. “I have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything. You’re choosing to.” There was no judgement in his voice. “At least let me help you. I can’t keep watching you walk into danger and feeling helpless to stop it.”

“What about Penguin?” you asked.

“Let him think I’m off his case. It’ll only make it more satisfying when I finally tear him down.” Jason pressed his lips against your temple, breathing deep. “There’s nothing he’s doing that can’t wait a few weeks. You know that you’re my priority.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Tipping your head up towards him, you braced your hands on his shoulders as you leaned up and kissed him. It was brief, but you pushed as many of your feelings into that moment of contact as you could. Jason pulled you into a tight embrace, your face tucked into his chest.

“You know that I love you, right?” you whispered.

“I know,” he said. “I love you, too. Even when you’re jumping into situations likely to kill you.”

“I died once and came back.” You wrapped your arms around him, closing your eyes to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. “I’d do it all over again for you.”

\----

_June 16 th_

The sewers were even worse than you had imagined. Even through your mask, you could smell the rot. It was a dumping ground of all kinds of waste. Wading knee-deep through the water, you swallowed a mouthful of bile as a decaying human hand floated past. Tim and Jason both trudged along behind you, masked and suited up and significantly less disgusted by your surroundings. You figured both of them had probably tracked enough criminals through the sewers to get used to the filth, but it unsettled you how easily it all seemed to blow past them. Maybe you were just too inexperienced. Or maybe they both needed to be less desensitized to the worst Gotham had to offer.

“Eyes ahead,” Tim told you. He’d slipped on a filtered mask over the bottom of his face when you’d entered the sewers, voice muffled and tinny through it. “The Talon’s trail leads here. We don’t know where they are, and they could strike at any time.”

“Copy that,” you drawled, rolling your eyes.

Tim had been tracking a trace element that he claimed could be found in the serum that kept Talons ticking long after they should have died. When it led into the sewers, neither he nor Jason had been surprised. Apparently, the old Court of Owls had used some of the old sewer tunnels as paths to and from their labyrinthine headquarters. It only made sense that the awakened Talon would have retreated there. The three of you moved slowly, pausing occasionally so that Tim could consult the blueprints he had downloaded. When you reached a dead end, you all paused one more time while he double checked the schematics. A wave of dread rolled through you and you froze as a shadow moved out of the corner of your eye.

“Red Robin…” you gathered power into your fists, tracking the jerky movements of the shadow. “We have company.”

“Isn’t this just wonderful?” The voice came from the shadows, echoing through the space. “A group of baby bats, come to the same sewers where papa bat nearly met his end.”

“I didn’t know you could talk,” you said. Jason had drawn his pistols, moving closer to you. Tim had killed the blueprints to draw out his bo staff. “I was under the impression zombies were mindless like that.”

“You’re a new little bat.” The voice was too rough, too deep to be human. But the words were so smooth, rolling off the walls and echoing like a song. The hair on the back of your neck rose as you tried to track movement in the shadows. “The one who tried to save the Falcone don. I thought I’d ripped your guts out.”

“No such luck.” You located a pair of glowing eyes, snarling. “I don’t go down so easy.”

Jason fired then, rapid shots in the direction of those glowing eyes. Each muzzle flash lit the path of the Talon as they moved with inhuman grace. Slipping out of the shadows, the Talon turned their attention to you, flexing their clawed fingers.

“Pretty little bird,” they said in that haunting tone, “you even brought your red birds with you. You will make my job that much easier.”

In the blink of an eye, the Talon was in front of you, dagger in one hand and claws arcing towards you. Bringing your arm up, you cried out as the sharp talons slashed through your uniform and left deep gashes. Tim braced his hands on your shoulders and you crouched so he could vault over you. His kick connected with the Talon’s face, sending the assassin stumbling back as Tim landed in front of you. While the two squared off, you dug a syringe out of your belt. Antidote for whatever poison he had used before.

“Oh, no need for that,” the Talon said, dodging another flying kick from Tim and grabbing his ankle. “No poison tonight. I intend to kill the three of you slowly and painfully. Poison would only shorten your sentences.”

Throwing Tim at Jason, the Talon launched themselves at you again. You brought your hands up, catching the assassin’s fists and sliding back in the murky water. Enhanced strength pushed back against your own, claws biting into the backs of your hands. You saw Jason rise and let the Talon overpower you, thrown back into the water moments before Jason began to fire again. Surfacing, you spat out a mouthful of rancid water and reached for the hilt of the sword strapped to your back. Damian had sent you off with it, warning you that it would only grow sharper with the blood it absorbed. You hoped that was a metaphor. The sword slipped from its sheath smoothly, glinting in the dim light as you wielded it with both hands.

Each round Jason fired went through the Talon’s abdomen. The thing didn’t even flinch. Instead, they turned and lunged at Jason. You cried out, grip tightening on the sword. Of course, you didn’t need to be worried. Jason dodged out of the way, holstering his pistols and drawing out a bundle of garrote wire. Moving fast and fluid, he looped the wire around the Talon’s wrists, yanking and sending the assassin tumbling down into the water. Tim was at his side in a heartbeat, knee pressed to the Talon’s spine as he zip tied their ankles and moved on to replace the wire with another zip tie. With a growl, Jason pulled the Talon from the water and tossed them at your feet.

You hauled them up by the collar of their uniform, holding the blade steady at their throat with your other hand.

“Talk,” you ordered. “Tell me who sent you.”

Instead, there was a snapping of plastic as the Talon ripped out of its bonds, the heel of its hand driving up and colliding with your jaw. Teeth clicking together, your vision went black for a second as you stumbled back. The sword wavered, your grip loosening. The Talon advanced, a roundhouse kick landing in your sternum that sent you flying back. The breath was knocked from your lungs and you collided with the opposite wall, sword falling from your grasp. Claws ripped the hood back from your head and the Talon pulled you up by the front of your costume.

“Pretty demon,” they said, “I have seen hell before. And you cannot imagine what it is like.”

Another shot rang out and the Talon dropped you. One of Jason’s rounds had blown apart a chunk of its wrist. Instead of blood, a rotten ichor oozed slowly from the wound. Whirling to face Jason, the Talon jerked in surprise when it faced Tim instead. With a grin, he shoved a modified incendiary device on the assassin’s chest. You rolled out of the way before it went off, freezing the Talon from the neck down.

“Okay,” you said, picking the sword back up. “Let’s try this again. Tell me why you killed Carmine Falcone, Johnny Viti, and Andrea Viti.”

The Talon was silent for a moment, eerily still. You feared that maybe all the ice had completely shut them down (as Tim had warned you that the chemical that kept them running relied on body heat). But then they spoke.

“Since the fall of my masters, I have lurked in the sewers. The bat sent me into hiding here, and I quietly waited for my time to emerge. I did not imagine that it would take so many years, but I was willing to take the contract.” The Talon turned its head sluggishly towards you. “I do not know the name of the man who approached me. But Falcone had to die. He was going to bend Gotham in ways that I could not allow. The nephew and his bride were collateral damage.”

“That’s not good enough,” you snarled. “You’re not telling me everything.”

“It would be too easy if I did.” The mask shifted, and you knew that they were smiling. “You are on a path that you are not ready for, little bird. None of you are prepared for it. But if you are willing to slink into the shadows, I will tell you but one thing.”

“Just spit it out,” Jason snapped. He had come to stand next to you, glowering.

“The bride was not who she seemed. Follow the trail of blood and perhaps you will find the web.”

“I’ve heard enough.” You stepped forward. “Anything else you want to get off your chest, Talon?”

“They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed,” the Talon quoted, “Speak not a whispered word about them, or they’ll send the Talon for your head.”

“Wait—” Tim said, reaching for you.

Nothing could stop you at that moment. Wielding the sword in both hands, you swung it with a sharp cry. The blade was sharp, sliding through flesh and bone with no issue. Rotting ichor sprayed across your face as the Talon’s head fell at your feet. Reaching down, you pulled off the hooded mask and raised it up by the hair. Tim paled at the sight, the ichor dripping down at your feet. The Talon had been male, his face frozen in a manic smile.

“One head down,” you said, pulling your hood back up and turning from the two men. You sheathed the sword, heading back into the decayed shadows of the sewer. “One more to go.”

\----

_June 17 th_

You threw the head at Carla Viti’s feet. Her bodyguards gagged at the smell, one of them clapping a hand over his mouth. The acting head of the Falcone family merely smiled.

“The first head for your collection,” you told her. The sword was heavy on your back, the rotted blood staining it adding an imaginary weight. Another death on your conscious, even if the Talon had been undead. “A man approached that Talon for the hit. I’m working on a lead he gave me.”

“I’m impressed, Shrike.” Carla Viti motioned for one of her bodyguards to deal with the head. Looking nauseous, he carefully wrapped it in a sheet and carried it out of the room. “You work quickly. Which is good, since you now have a time limit.”

You did not respond. Instead, you watched as she walked to a chair, sitting down and primly folding her hands in her lap. A deep, ugly part of you respected Carla Viti. Nothing seemed to shake the woman. Not the deaths of her family, not the head of the undead assassin who carried out the hit. Both feet in the darkness, not teetering on the edge as you were.

“Sophia is arriving on the last day of the month,” she said. “She will, regrettably, miss her father’s funeral. There were loose ends to tie up in Sicily. Once she arrives, she will take my place at the head of this family. Whatever mercy I have shown you will not be extended by her. Prove to the family that you can tie up this incident or you may have a target on your back.”

Honestly, you expected nothing less. Sofia Gigante was every inch her father’s daughter and more. Her cruelty and relentless drive were endless, a mean streak a mile-wide running through the intelligence she’d inherited from her father. While Alberto was an unknown element to you still, Sofia would kill you without blinking. A door opened behind you and you whirled around, dropping into a crouch and raising a hand to the hilt of the sword.

“Relax, Shrike.” Carla Viti stood, resting a hand briefly on your shoulder as she approached the figure at the door. “Alberto. What is it?”

The man in the door was tall and thin, glasses glinting in the light. His face was pale and drawn, the only resemblance he had to his father being his cold eyes and dark hair. Alberto Falcone was not at all what you had expected. He stared at you as his aunt approached, face blank and inscrutable. A wave of unease swept through you even as you straightened and dropped your hand.

“I heard something in here,” he said. His voice was thin, so soft you could barely hear it. “Is this one of your assassins?”

“No,” she said. “Merely a temporary ally. I thought I told you to stay out of this, Alberto.”

“He was my father.” Cutting his eyes down at his aunt, a shiver went down your spine at the cold disregard on his face. “I have every right to know what you’re doing to avenge him.”

“There was a reason your father sent you off to Oxford,” Carla Viti hissed, no love in her tone. “There is a reason your sister is coming back to Gotham. You are not suited to run this family. Go back to your room, Alberto, and read your little books. Leave the work to your aunt.”

You cleared your throat, drawing the attention of both. Jerking your thumb at the window, you took a step back. “I’ll just… see myself out, Mrs. Viti. I’ll let you know if I find anything else about who contacted the Talon.”

“See that you do.” Carla Viti’s cold eyes followed you as you stepped to the window. “And don’t forget to keep time in mind.”

Without another word, you leapt from the window. The moon glinted off Alberto’s glasses when you glanced back. Landing in a crouch, you pulled your hood further over your face and slunk into the nearby woods where Jason waited for you. Leaning against his motorcycle, the glowing red eyes of his mask cut up to you at your approach. In the dark, the bleeding red of the costume and the glow of the eyes inspired more fear than what he had worn when you first met him. Pulling away the lower half of his mask, he pushed his hood back.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“I met Alberto,” you said. Pulling your mask down, you shook your head. “There’s something… wrong about him.”

“He is Falcone’s son,” Jason pointed out.

“No, it’s more than that. The way he looked at me when he walked in the room…” You shuddered, wrapping your arms around yourself. “It was just wrong.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for him, then.” Jason pushed off the bike, stepping forward to wrap his arms around you in a warm embrace. “All of this will be over soon, sweetheart.”

“I hope so,” you murmured, leaning into him. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Don’t worry.” Jason stared over your head at the estate, eyes narrowed. “I’ll make sure of it.”

\----

_June 22 nd_

In his dreams, Jason wasn’t the one who got beaten with the crowbar anymore. It was her, dressed in that damned suit of hers. She would be handcuffed, beaten bruised and bloody. Her suit would be torn, mask ripped from her face and black eye paint smeared down her cheeks. The Joker was no longer the one in control of the pain. Some nights it was a resurrected Black Mask, blood leaking from a hole in his chest. Other nights it was Penguin, laughing that damned laugh of his. That night, it was Alberto Falcone. That cold face splattered with her blood, glasses reflecting the moon as he raised the weapon.

A warm touch startled him awake, his hand reaching under the pillow. When a kiss followed it, pressed against the clammy skin at the back of his neck, he relaxed. He pulled his hand away from the gun, sighing as she pressed another kiss to his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. Warm and constant, hand pressed to his chest just over his racing heart. “You’re okay, Jason.”

“It was you again,” he rasped. He closed his eyes, focused on his breathing and the press of her skin against his back. She was there. She was okay. “The Falcone kid was beating you.”

She sighed, breath fanning over his skin. The bed shifted and he felt her cheek press against his arm. Her arm hooked around his waist, body flush against him. A nice distraction, skin against skin, her legs tangled with his.

“He’s a rejected mob kid,” she mumbled. “No leads tracing back to him. He was creepy, but he’s not going to kill me, baby.”

“I know.” He did know. All that research, all that detective work led nowhere. The Viti bride had been from old Gotham money, a multi-state smuggling ring owned by her late father. Falcone would have gained control with the marriage, but the trail ran cold after that. The business went to the state with her death. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” She pressed another kiss to his shoulder, just over an old bullet wound. “I just wish I could help.”

“You do help.” Jason turned on his side, taking in her sleep ruffled hair and hooded eyes. Neither of them slept well. “Just letting me sleep here helps.”

“Mmn.” She stretched like a lazy cat, toes curling as she yawned. Then she propped herself up on an elbow, smiling at him. “You know you’re always welcome.”

Fingers skimming over the bare skin of her ribs, Jason hummed in response. The wounds on her stomach were still healing, long, angry red slashes. He hated seeing her hurt, seeing the new scars she had collected. This was what she wanted to do now, but each new wound felt like a personal failing on his part. A muted noise from the other room caught his attention. Jason sat up and leaned over her, lips brushing against her ear.

“Did you hear that?” he asked. Another soft sound came from another area in the house. She tensed under him, fingers curling against his chest. The cat let out a plaintive chirp from the end of the bed. “I think we have company.”

“I’ll keep them busy so you can put some underwear on,” she said. A soft thud outside the door had her slipping out from under him, gathering the sheets around her. “I’d rather not have strangers see your dick.”

“It’s sexy when you get jealous,” Jason said. He reached under his pillow, pulling out the pistol and flicking the safety off. “Go get them, baby.”

Watching her work never failed to amaze him. There was a glow to her skin when she let her power bubble up underneath her skin. Like soda pop, she had told him once. A gentle fizzing that let her deflect bullets and punch holes through steel. Tying the sheets around herself, he watched that glow rise to her fists. His briefs were still by the bed and he quickly slid them on, gun raised. They took a deep breath in unison, letting it out at the same time.

The first intruder through the door didn’t know what hit him. She punched him in the sternum, sending him flying back through the doorway. Jason heard the bones in his chest shatter with the impact. An ominous click was all the warning they had before another intruder opened fire in short bursts. He dove to the floor while she raised a protective field in front of herself. Sighting down the gun, Jason caught a movement in the shadows and fire. A grunt of pain, then a thud. Two down, unknown number to go.

Vaulting over the man he’d shot, she took down another with a flying punch. Jason checked under the bed to make sure the cat was okay before getting to his feet.

“Lights!” he yelled, a triumphant smirk on his face when all the lights in the house blazed on. She had pushed back against letting him install the system, but he knew they’d come in handy at some point. A chorus of pained grunts came from down the hall. Night vision goggles. Anyone who had been wearing them would be stunned and temporarily blinded.

Jason advanced into the hall, sighting down the gun and keeping it close to him. She had already dropped two more men, one of them lying in a pool of blood and the other slumped with his head jammed through the wall. Tracking one who was coming up behind her with a knife, Jason dropped him with a shot to the knee. She turned and kicked him in the head for good measure. Three more rounded the front door and came through into the living room. Jason took down two with shots to the head. She grabbed the bat she kept by the couch and dropped the third with a hard swing to the temple.

Both of them stood in the middle of the living room, stunned for a second. Who were these guys? Who had sent them? How had they even tracked her out to her house? Jason didn’t get long to ponder on those questions. One last intruder popped out from the kitchen. Hiding, of course. Waiting for their guards to go down. He brandished his machete and charged her.

“Shrike!” Jason screamed, raising his gun.

He didn’t need to fire. An arrow whizzed past him, lodging in the guy’s throat before he could get to her. Body going down like a sack of bricks, his machete skittered uselessly across the hardwood floor. Jason sighed, lowering his gun and turning to the hooded figure in the front doorway.

“Hey Connor,” he said.

Connor Hawke lowered his bow and pushed back his hood. His blond hair had grown out since the last time Jason saw him, dark skin washed out by the bright lights of the room. Letting his bag fall from his shoulder, he walked further into the house.

“Sorry I’m late,” Connor said. He crossed over to her, offering her his hand. “Connor Hawke. Kyle Rayner said you might need some help. I would have made it sooner, but my flight got delayed.”

For a moment, she stared down at the offered hand. The sheets she’d tied around herself were torn and loose, splattered with blood. Then she took Connor’s hand, giving it a firm shake.

“Nice to meet you. And thanks for the help.” Pulling the sheets tighter around herself, she turned to Jason. “I’m going to put on some clothes. Could you put on some coffee and do something about the bodies? It’s 3 am and I don’t think any of us are going to get more sleep after this.”

“Will do, baby.” He said. She let her hand brush over his shoulder as she passed.

Connor watched her go, an appraising look on his face. Jason stepped closer, gripping his arm a bit tighter than was necessary.

“You look at her again,” he growled, “and I will shoot you.”

\----

_June 22 nd – Early Morning_

There was something calming about Connor Hawke’s presence. While Jason had gone to work dragging bodies out of your house, you had sat down in the kitchen with him. He had happily accepted a cup of coffee (no cream, 2 sugars) and drank it slowly. By the time you were on your second cup, he was just finishing his first.

Jason walked into the kitchen, still only wearing his underwear and a grim expression.

“Those guys were Falcone,” he said. “Rose tattoos on the inner arm.”

“What?” You frowned, grip tightening around your mug. That made no sense. Sofia still hadn’t arrived in Gotham (to your knowledge) and as long as Carla Viti was running the show, it would have been against her own interests to take you out in your own house. Even if the trail had run cold, you were still hunting the killer. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Pouring himself some coffee, he sat in the chair next to you, looking exhausted. “Not sure what we did, but we clearly pissed someone off.”

“I’ll go visit Viti,” you said. “There’s gotta be an explanation to this.”

“There is.” Connor had been checking his phone. He slid it over to you. “I think you should read this.”

You read the headline and your blood ran cold.

\---- 

_6 hours earlier_

Carla Viti slumped against the wall. Her men were dead around her, blood on the walls. The attack had come swift and certain. She should have seen it coming. With a bullet to the gut, her death would come slower than the men around her. She coughed, hand pressed over the wound.

“I should have known it was you,” she rasped. The killer stood over her, face shrouded by the shadows. “We were all blind.”

“Don’t worry,” the killer said. He raised his gun one more time. “I’ll take good care of the family.”

Carla Viti smiled. One final gunshot silenced her forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not super proud of this chapter, but i could only work on it for so long before getting frustrated. mostly just set up for the final chapter. the last one will likely take me a little longer, since i'm planning on it being fairly long. 
> 
> if you've read this far, thank you! comments and kudos are always appreciated.


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